


Tell Me When It Gets Easier

by Ramasi



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mostly Dialogue, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramasi/pseuds/Ramasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos has returned to the Watchers, so Amanda has a request for him. Which is denied, of course, but at least they get to drink coffee, make a few half-hearted plans, and commiserate about that hassle that comes with being in love with Duncan MacLeod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me When It Gets Easier

**Author's Note:**

> I put Methos back in the Watchers because I really like him there.

Methos let her in, even though it was the middle of the night, again. He made her coffee, again, and he heard her out, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a small white cup with a tear in it.

Only, when she'd finished, he laughed. Amanda was silent, just looked up at him from behind her lashes with sad eyes, until Methos glanced away first. She pushed herself off the doorframe, walking closer.

"Wait," said Methos, losing the silent game. "You're actually serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?" said Amanda, innocently.

Methos closed his eyes, drew in a breath.

"Okay," he said and looked at her; she kept her own face all attentive trust, as in the presence of a skittish animal. "No."

He turned away to refill his cup, with a slight head-shake, as if he couldn't believe this was even happened.

"Oh, come on Methos," she said, slightly whiny.

"No," Methos repeated.

"I've never asked you before," Amanda insisted.

She walked up to him, close enough to touch. Methos turned back towards her, disbelieving frown still firmly in place.

"I thought that was because you _knew_ I'd say no," he said, like that should have been obvious.

Fair point, too, Amanda admitted to herself.

"It's just a small thing."

Methos narrowed his eyes at her.

"Do you people _realise_ that every time I get some information I can't justify with my research, I'm in danger of attracting attention?"

"You do it for MacLeod," Amanda said.

"Did he tell you that?" Amanda glanced up at him, falsely demure. "I did, a few times," Methos admitted, in an almost guilty manner, and glared at her.

"But you won't for me?" Amanda insisted, leaning sideways against the counter next to him, sensual; it wasn't an attempt at seduction, exactly, just a reminder this was an attractive woman asking you for favours.

"No," said Methos, drawing in his shoulders – the cold, perhaps, he was underdressed – and the "of course not" was very clear in his voice.

"Why not? Just this one time."

"Because," said Methos, putting down the cup and moving away. "He's much better at this than you are."

"What?" snapped Amanda, briefly dropping the act. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know," Methos explained, like she should, in fact, already know, and walked past her into the living room. She followed behind. "He walks in, all confident, talking about how _important_ helping this friend from a century ago is to him." He fell down in a chair, and, after a short hesitation, Amanda followed, took a seat on the sofa across of him, crossing her legs.

"This is important to _me_ ," she said, back to fake softness.

"Yes, but you don't actually _think_ I'm going to help just to be nice."

"What." Amanda frowned. "You're refusing to help me just because I'm a cynic?"

"It's just, MacLeod is –"

He broke off, looking down at his lap. Amanda stared at him for a moment, passed a tongue over her upper teeth.

"You're in love too, aren't you?" she said, and this time the friendliness was sincere. Methos glared up at her, and Amanda quickly held up her hands, signifying inoffensiveness. " _I_ get it."

"Did you know," Methos snapped, after a short pause, drawing his chair closer to her, and insisting on every word, angry. "When I tried to get rid of Keane for him, he threatened to kill me."

"I know!" Amanda said vividly. "He sent the police after me, can you believe it? I had to spend _two weeks_ holed up in that barge before I even dared make a run for it."

Methos grimaced.

"At least you got something out of it."

"Ha," Amanda made. "Look, I do love him, I really do, but two weeks of almost uninterrupted presence?" She was sure the look on her face said enough.

Methos shrugged faintly, acknowledging.

"I can imagine."

"I spent centuries without him," she added, punctuating her words with a gesture. "I was just fine."

"Tell me about it."

Amanda uncrossed her legs. There was a short silence.

"We're a bit pathetic," she remarked, self-pitying; Methos glared at her. "All right, I'm speaking for myself, I'm pathetic."

"No, you're right."

Amanda heaved a deep sigh, tapped her fingers against the leather beneath her.

"You sure you can't help me?"

"Sorry, Amanda. But you're going to rob that guy blind, they'll remember I had his file, it's just too risky."

"I'd, even." She hesitated. It cost her to offer. "Share the prize with you." She smiled, tempting.

"I can't afford any extra money, someone's bond to wonder where it's come from."

"Oh –" She threw up her hands. "Is this worth it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being inconspicuous."

Methos stared at her, as if he couldn't understand why she'd ask the question.

"I'm still alive."

Amanda sighed again, and looked around the room; the light was dim, shimmering in from the kitchen and the street lamps outside.

"I'm wasting my time, aren't I?"

"Afraid so," Methos agreed, and, encouraging: "You could just try breaking in."

"I'd thought about that, but if they catch me they'll end up blaming him and Dawson for me even knowing." She tapped against the leather again. "This is a real mess," she complained. "I mean he's helped me out a lot of times, but it's not like I _promised_ him anything in return."

Methos shook his head.

"It's not the favours. If anything, _he_ owes _me_."

"I guess not." She sucked at the inside of her mouth, thoughtful. "Did you ever tell him?"

"Tell him what? Oh." He had a brief laugh. "No, and I'm not going to."

"Why not? _I'm_ not jealous. I mean..." She smiled sweetly. "We both know he'd drop everything whenever I come around."

Methos ignored the challenge, avoiding her eyes.

"I don't like getting involved with other immortals."

"Darling," said Amanda, in the tone of one who's about the break bad news, "you _are_ involved already."

"It's bad enough."

"No." She held up her hand, warring this off. "Take it from me, the sex is one of the good parts." Methos gave no answer, looking morose. "Did you really offer him your head? You?"

"No, he wouldn't have taken it. I attacked him."

"Still didn't work?"

"I guess my 'mad immortal who takes heads for the sake of the game' act wasn't really up to par," Methos admitted, a little defensive.

"I worked out fine in the end."

"This time, but eventually _someone_ else is going to succeed at killing me."

"Why would you say that?" said Amanda, concerned, though she had to admit that if she didn't still have a little hope for eventual help, she would probably have left Methos to this unusual weariness. "What's wrong with you?"

"The technology keeps getting better, it's getting harder to hide, and eventually I'll have to leave the Watchers for good before they notice I don't age."

Amanda shrugged. She liked the technology. It meant new challenges, and, especially, interesting new tools. She'd thought that so did Methos.

"You knew that when you joined," she said, unsympathetic.

"You know what we should do?" said Methos, leaning forward with narrowed eyes; Amanda put on her best attentive, interested face. "We should train someone."

"What, you mean a student?"

Methos leaned back in his chair.

"We grab some freshly made immortal the Watchers don't know about yet off the street," Methos explained, seeming to warm up to his plan; one of his hands traced an imaginary landscape. "We train him, we put him inside the Watchers. He keeps us informed, he pulls all the files you want."

He looked at her expectantly. Amanda's eyes went dreamy. The _possibilities_ of full access to the Watchers' intelligence...

"It's brilliant."

"We can keep it up for twenty years before we need to start over. Forty if he puts on a fake beard."

"Yes," Amanda said, coming down. "It's brilliant until the moment they find him and cut his head off."

"It's worked fine for me."

"Or he could sell us out."

Methos looked away.

"Don't be such a cynic."

"It just doesn't seem right. It feels like preying on kids."

"It's not like _they_ get nothing out of it."

"Mm," Amanda made, pursed her lips, and looked around the room once more; very modern furniture, clothes on the floor, and not a single thing worth stealing in sight. "You're not serious, are you? You wouldn't even have told me if you were."

"It was just an idea."

"Duncan would hate it."

"Oh, don't start."

"I'm just saying."

"We wouldn't _tell_ him." Methos stood up, and made his way back to the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"No." Amanda craned her neck, looking after him. "We just had coffee." She heard the fridge door open, then Methos came back into view, a beer can in hand. "I don't think I could do that anyway. Not telling Duncan, I mean."

"What." Methos turned on a small desk lamp, and sat on the sofa's arm by her side. "You can't _lie_ to him?"

"No, I lie to him all the time. But." She pursed her lips, embarrassed. "Continuously, for several decades? I don't think I could do it. Well, it's not a character flaw," she added, defensive.

"No." He took a sip. "But I'll keep that in mind next time I think about involving you in a project."

Amanda glared up playfully.

"You know, speaking of shared projects..."

"I'm not pulling that file for you, Amanda."

"You're worse than Duncan," she muttered. "I _would_ try persuading you the same way." She waited for Methos to turn towards her, before trailing a finger up her leg. "But you're not really my type."

"You mean that actually works on MacLeod?"

"Well." Amanda thought back. "No. But it's fun." She sighed and stood up. "Thanks for the coffee," she said, sounding just as ungrateful as she felt. "And if you change your mind, I guess you'll know where to find me."

Methos smiled at her glare, and Amanda turned away in disgust. Some friend.


End file.
